


A Very Distinctive Relationship

by Callmegoddess618



Category: Leverage
Genre: Headcanon, M/M, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmegoddess618/pseuds/Callmegoddess618
Summary: "The worst thing I ever did, I did for Damien Moreau." Eliot glanced away, for a second, the memory of who he used to be threatening to tear down his carefully built walls. "And I can’t ever be clean of that"This is how Eliot Spender fell in love with Damien Moreau, and Moreau fell in love back. This is how Moreau controlled Eliot, twisted him into his own personal monster, and then pushed Eliot too far. This is how Eliot took his life back and how he was changed forever by Moreau.It was a Very Distinctive Relationship.
Relationships: Damien Moreau/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	A Very Distinctive Relationship

"The worst thing I ever did, I did for Damien Moreau." Eliot glanced away, for a second, the memory of who he used to be threatening to tear down his carefully built walls. "And I can’t ever be clean of that"  
"What did you do?" Parker asked, and she looked at him.  
She knew the dark places too, what it was like to be cut off from everyone and everything. Eliot looked at her, and for a moment, he almost told her. He almost told them all, everything. 

6 years ago

"It’s just a job, man, and he's just a guy," Eliot said to Michael, while they both sat at the bar, drinking one of the bar’s special brews. It wasn’t bad, Eliot figured. The bar owner and the man behind the craft beers he and Michael had been trying for the last few months, was a genius. He had yet to make a beer Eliot didn’t enjoy. He took a deep drink and looked at Michael, the bottom of his feet itching, but only in his head.  
Michael's shoulder length hair was a little too rebellious for Eliot, but he had to admit, it made him look good. The variance on the standard military cut he had worn when they served together was the first thing that Eliot had noticed when they ran into each other a few months back and reconnected at the same bar, in the same booth they were in now. It was slowly becoming their spot, and Michael was itching for more from Eliot. He and Eliot had been more than friends for a few weeks now. But the relationship was already wearing Eliot thin. He didn't do long term deals anymore, not since Aimee. He especially didn't do them with guys who tried to control him. Like Michael was doing now, trying to get Eliot to back out of a job he'd taken for a locally located smuggler by the name of Damien Moreau. Moreau had a reputation for being worse than the guys Eliot usually worked for, but Eliot himself had a reputation built on lies and smoke with some truth thrown in.  
"Man, nothing is just anything with a guy like Moreau. You've heard the stories. He's a monster,” Michael countered back.  
"If we're listening to rumors now, so am I," Eliot glared at Michael, a look that Michael knew meant he'd better shut up. He knew when Eliot's mind was made up that that was that. You can't force a man like Eliot to do something he didn't want to. But knowing that didn't mean he couldn't try. Eliot had a conscience; he wasn't a monster. But Moreau would make him one and Michael knew it. He couldn't let that happen without trying. You could never force Eliot do something he didn’t want to. But enough pressure in the right places and you could twist him into something out of a nightmare. Michael had seen Eliot take that path before, and it had taken a lot to pull him back. He didn’t have the patience to try again. He took one last desperate chance and said  
"Look, Eliot, I don't want anything to do with anything Moreau is planning, okay? If you're getting in bed with a guy like that, then you're getting out of mine." And as soon as he said it, as soon as he saw Eliot's face, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Michael knew every inch of Eliot's face, he had served with him, and he saw the flash of pain, the blinding fury, and the blank, impartial mask descend over them both at a terrifying speed.  
"Fine," Eliot snapped. "This relationship has lasted long enough anyway. I'll be out of your way tonight"  
Michael reached out for Eliot, grabbing his hand, "Wait, come on, you know-" the words were cut off when Eliot twisted his wrist, grabbed Michael's hand, pulled him close for a second and then shoved him back on the bench in one fluid motion.  
Eliot bolted from the bar as quick as he could without running and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. The itch on the bottom of his feet grew stronger. “Just a little bit longer and we’ll be moving on” he muttered to himself. He turned a corner and walked up to the place he and Michael had been sharing and pulled the key to it off the keyring. He opened the door, memories of what they had been and done flooding through him. The specters of Eliot cooking breakfast, he and Michael curled on the couch, Michael’s face as Eliot strummed his guitar to a song he had written, and more were wiped away with one furious motion as he tossed the key on the kitchen counter.  
“I’ll be out of your bed, your place, your life” he muttered darkly to himself as he grabbed the few things he had and shoved them into the same gym bag they had come into the apartment in. His hand stopped over the disc he had made for Michael. Music spoke to Eliot and he used it as a way to communicate, to share what he didn’t have the words to. He had cared about Michael. But the words in the lyrics of those songs weren’t for a guy who tried to manipulate him. Eliot took the disc out of the case and set it by the key. He brought his fist down and shattered it, then marched to the door, twisted the lock in the handle, and slammed it behind him.  
Several days later, in the backroom of a winery  
"That was a nice touch, framing him for the smuggling ring," Moreau said, the smooth accent practically turning the compliment into a lullaby.  
"Yeah well, if you're gonna kill someone, might as well get some use out of it" Eliot said darkly. Maybe he was a bit more brutal than he should have been on this job. His anger at Michael hadn’t fully subsided but the things he had done, the pain he had caused, and the life he had taken certainly helped ease the pain Eliot still carried inside. And Moreau didn’t seem to mind when Eliot told him what he’d done. Hell, he had enjoyed it. The fact that Eliot had framed the customs agent for leading the smuggling operation out of Iraq that Moreau hired him for only seemed to please Moreau more.  
"I agree, of course. Why don't we add a little bonus to your pay? Tyler be a dear and add a nice little tip for Eliot here. Just a little thank you for the truly masterful way you tidied this up."  
Eliot tried to not let the surprise register on his face. A man like Moreau, with his reputation didn’t just go throwing money at someone. “I won’t say no. Thanks, I suppose”  
"How would you feel about another job?"  
"Does it involve killing someone again?"  
"It might. Do you want it to?" Moreau's eyes watched Eliot carefully. He was interested in this one. He did love taming monsters. And Eliot was truly something special. If he could keep Eliot around as a retrieval specialist for a while, then he could learn enough to see if Eliot could be a masterpiece.  
"I wouldn't mind a chance to work through some stuff still" Eliot said quietly and Moreau smiled, a dark and twisted grin that did not reach his eyes, but certainly reached Eliot's. Moreau knew he was angry, saw what he had done, and didn’t flinch. It made Eliot feel warm. At least Moreau wouldn't be the type to throw someone out over a little bit of bloodshed.  
"Good. The money for the last one has already been sent to your accounts. I'll call for you in a few days to set up the next job" Moreau turned and left, his bodyguard following closely behind. 

6 Months, Several Jobs and Numerous Murders later..........  
Eliot slipped out of Moreau's shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped down the top of the full-length mirror opposite the sink. His hair was getting longer than he'd like, it fell past his eyes and brushed just underneath his chin. But he did love the way Moreau's hands felt in it, the way he used it to pull Eliot’s mouth toward his own. Maybe he'd leave it alone a while longer. His eyes fell to the scratches on his shoulders from where Moreau’s nails had torn into him, and the faint bruising on his neck from where he had held Eliot. He could see where the collar of his shirt would sit. It would cover the scratches easily enough, but the ring around his neck where Moreau hands were last night? Maybe he should invest in some concealer. That model from a few years back had shown him a few tricks he could use....  
His thoughts blurred into a shiver as Moreau came behind him and pulled him close. Moreau pressed his lips to the stinging scratches on his shoulders, in what Eliot would have called a kiss if it wasn't so possessive and fierce, his teeth scrapping, stinging Eliot. The memory of last night, of the pain mixed with the pleasure, caused Eliot to freeze up, struggling to keep control of himself  
"Admiring my handiwork, pet?" Moreau asked, and he spun Eliot around to face him, then pressed both hands against the glass, effectively pinning the quite extraordinary hitter in place. Not that Eliot couldn’t move. He simply wouldn’t.  
Eliot grinned sheepishly, "I'm just trying to figure out how to keep the rest of the guys from noticing. I didn't bring anything that'll cover up my neck. Hell, I don't own anything that will cover up my neck"  
"You ought to. You'd like quite handsome in a shirt like that. In black. You always look best in black,” the smile on Moreau’s face as he pictured Eliot in a black turtleneck, cleaned up nicely, spread across his face and made Eliot feel almost loved.  
“But don't worry about covering them. They should be worn as a badge of honor. You brought out the best in me last night and that is a rare victory to claim" Moreau watched Eliot's face carefully. He wanted to study every reaction, learn every meaning hidden in the way his eyes moved, and his mouth twitched, and his eyebrows furrowed. Moreau had been watching Eliot for months, toying with him, teasing him, until last night when he finally let the foreplay end. He knew that letting Eliot see he wouldn’t hide the nature of their relationship would shock the hitter.  
Sure enough, Eliot's eyes widened with surprised and then his slow and easy grin followed. He was taking pride in last night, feeling very puffed up at being someone Moreau took pleasure in.  
"I can do that, wear the bruises with pride," Eliot said, "Yeah, I’ll enjoy that”  
Eliot's hands went into balled fists as Moreau kissed him fiercely. He learned well enough last night that Moreau didn't like being touched until he asked for it, or "gave permission" as he put it. Moreau hinted at something in the past that had hurt him, and Eliot wouldn’t betray that trust by losing control. But damn, it was hard to keep control as Moreau's hand wound around his neck again, squeezing ever so lightly, and Moreau whispered in his ear "That's what I like to hear, pet". The whisper, the pet name, and the kiss that followed sent a shiver through Eliot that trailed down his spine and pulled desire up through his navel and into chest. He choked out a moan and didn't hesitate to fall to his knees as Moreau pressed down slightly on his shoulders. Well fuck it, it's not the worst way to be late for work, he thought.

"You're late" Moreau said as Eliot entered the back room of the winery they were using as a meeting point with the others to discuss the next job.  
Eliot's hands balled into fists for an entirely different reason this time as his temper spiked. Moreau told him to arrive 5 minutes after him. For all his talk about wearing the marks as a badge of honor, he wasn’t ready to let the entire world know about them yet. Only his inner circle. Eliot wasn’t late by his own count, and he started to say something, to rebuke the coldness in Moreau’s voice. But one quick look at the Moreau and the others told Eliot that he should keep his mouth shut.  
"Sorry" he mumbled and then added "sir" at the frozen glare Moreau sent his way.  
"Now then, as I was saying, this is now our top priority. The information Interpol has gathered could very well be used to place me in jail and that is not something anyone here wants to deal with, I assure you. If I must return to San Lorenzo to avoid prison because of this impertinent investigation, I can promise that you will all be joining me there so I can express my displeasure eventually. As such, I will be joining you on this job. Personally."  
4 of the 5 men in the room had worked with Moreau before. While Eliot and Tyler were the only ones who were on Moreau’s permanent payroll, 2 of the others were practically on retainer for Moreau. The only new guy in the group, read the room well enough to know that Moreau joining in on the plan was not par for the course. Moreau used others to do his job. That was something he staked his reputation on. Whatever information Interpol had on him had to be a game changer, something he couldn’t trust to anyone else.  
"Tyler and Eliot will accompany me to where the information is being stored," Moreau said as he indicated to his bodyguard and to Eliot. "The rest of you, your jobs are contained in the folders you have in hand. Elijah, I expect that the files I requested will be in my hand no later than 7 this evening. After the job is done and I am safe at home, your payment will be sent to the accounts on file. I do truly hope to not see you all until much later. Eliot, with me."  
With that, he turned and swept out of the room, Eliot and Tyler following him into the upper loft above the winery that Moreau had turned into a home away from home.  
"What was that about?" Eliot snapped out as soon as the door closed and he knew the others wouldn't hear him, "You told me to be late and then you tore me down for it?" His temper rolled over him, laced with embarrassment and the sting of Moreau's perceived rejection. Less than 2 hours ago, he had been on his knees before the man, making him come, in the bathroom less than 20 feet away from where he was standing, and here Moreau was treating him like he was nothing. That smug grin on his face didn't help either.  
But that smooth, gliding chuckle sure did. It was a reminder to Eliot that Moreau would never flinch away from the worst he did. It was the same sound that he had made last night, while they sat at the table in the kitchen where they were standing, as Eliot confessed some of the worst things he had done.  
"I'm sorry Eliot, dear, but really, everyone knows my standards, and this was Elijah's first job with us. I can't lose face in front of him, you do understand that" he said, crossing the room, raising his hand and caressing Eliot's cheek, savoring the way Eliot leaned into his hand, like a desperate man, hungry for any sign of affection. Of acceptance. Moreau kept a carefully crafted sorrowful look on his face as Eliot looked at him, knowing it only served to make Eliot fall even deeper.  
Moreau was sorry. He didn't say it, but Eliot could read it on his face. For someone like Moreau, a reputation was everything, the only thing that kept new guys from pulling a double cross. Eliot understood, and Moreau's non apology was enough. After all, Moreau had seen Eliot do much worse and never flinched. He nodded at Moreau, choking on the word "okay" as he leaned into Moreau's touch.  
Moreau pulled his head towards him, and kissed his forehead gently before pulling his hand away neatly and settling into the kitchen chair he had been in the night before. The cool air hit the place where Moreau's hand had been abruptly and steadied him. Eliot pulled his shoulders back and down, put his hands behind him and listened to Moreau as his detailed how they would get into the Interpol offices that night, focusing on the job, on keeping Moreau safe. 

That Night....In an Interpol Office  
Eliot dropped the guard he had just knocked out into the corner of the office floor and looked up at Moreau. His fingers were flitting across the keyboard, the flash drive already plugged in, ready to copy any information they had on Moreau and send a virus that would wreak havoc on the whole office system for a few days, hiding the theft. Tyler stood behind Moreau, watching Eliot and the guard, hand on the slim .22 he carried in the event the guard got the best of Eliot.  
"Cocky bastard" Eliot mused in his head. He didn't go down and was looking forward to the day he got to prove that to Tyler. But he had been gentler than necessary with the security guard. He was barely out, but it should last long enough for them to leave the floor. After everything that happened with Moreau last night and today, it had been enough of an emotional roller coaster without adding "murdered innocent security guard and dad" to his list. The beaded bracelet on his wrist couldn't have been made by a kid older than 8.  
"There we are" Moreau muttered as he found the file, his focus on the firewall in the office and for once, not anywhere near Eliot. This insurance investigator that Interpol had been borrowing was rather persistent and the file on him was larger than he had expected. The file transfer was complete a few moments later and the virus had already begun to send the computer into fits and spasms. He grabbed the flash drive and stood up quickly. "Let's go gentlemen"  
At his words, the guard stirred and opened his eyes.  
"Moreau" the guard said as he came to, and Tyler pulled his firearm and aimed, but stopped when Eliot stood in between Tyler and guard.  
"Move Spencer" Tyler snapped, glancing at Moreau out of the corner of his eye for support.  
"I'm not letting you shoot this man" Eliot said, the weight of the decision he had to make falling on his shoulders.  
“Push him to the edge" Moreau had said to Tyler alone earlier, “I want to see what choice Spencer will make when he to choose between me and his morals"  
"He saw Moreau, he will talk. He needs to die". Tyler said, "If I have to take out the boss's pet fuck while I'm at it, then that's the price to be paid"  
Eliot felt his anger rise and wash over him, clouding his head. He hated Tyler, he hated the way he dismissed everyone, and he hated that had to choose between protecting Moreau and saving this man. The guard stood, ready to take on Eliot while his back was turned, but Eliot whirled around and cleanly snapped his neck. He watched the guard fall and turned to Tyler. Everything he had just stood for was gone, and he blamed Tyler’s carelessness for making him kill that man.  
"If you put Moreau at risk by being dumb enough to fire that in here, when we haven't cleared the building, and anyone could hear, I'll do the same to you." He snapped out. Coldly. Cruelly. He wanted to wrap his hands around Tyler and snap his neck so desperately in that moment that he looked at Moreau for permission.  
And he saw, in Moreau's eyes, permission. A subtle nod was all the sign Eliot needed. He would have to bide his time until they were clear. Tyler wouldn’t let his guard down around Eliot for a few days. He had seen what Eliot would do when he was angry. But the rage Eliot felt could carry him through until he was able to get his hands on Tyler and satisfy the need to wipe out the threat to Moreau. He grinned when Tyler turned away.  
He was starting to like killing for Moreau, while Moreau watched. While Moreau approved.

A few days later, lying in Moreau's bed next to Moreau, satisfaction washing over him, Eliot grinned. The way he disposed of Tyler had taken a lot out of him, but the fight had ended with him standing over the body of man he had envied and hated.  
"What has you so pleased, pet?" Moreau asked. He knew, but wanted to hear it. He wanted Eliot to relive that moment again and again.  
"You, letting me take care of Tyler. He was going to get you killed one day. Now he won't. And I'll make sure the next one you hire won't. I know a few guys who wouldn't mind playing guard dog to you"  
He had narrowed down the list on the way back from dumping Tyler's body. Moreau would be safe and Eliot wouldn't have to worry every time his back was turned that the new guy would put a knife in it. The guys he knew owed Eliot enough favors that they would overlook the unsavory parts of the job for a while, and would be willing to give him and Moreau the privacy they needed.  
"Oh I already had someone in mind" Moreau said, enjoying how Eliot stiffened next to him. Moreau slipped out of bed and slid on the dark grey cotton robe as he headed to the bar on the other side of the room. He watched, pouring a drink for himself as Eliot sat up and struggled to hide his hurt feelings.  
Months of twisting Eliot about, praising him when he lost control and preaching about he needed to keep control had worked wonders on Eliot. Add in the reward of affection when he lost control and the twist of pleasurable pain when he kept that control, and his attentions had served to slowly push Eliot over the edge. The lines he would never cross when they met had become so blurry that all it took was a tap to shove him over the edge. He loved twisting Eliot about, breaking him down bit by bit.  
"Let me run these guys by you first, Moreau. Please. I know them, I know they'll watch your back. Just let me do my job. Let me protect you." Eliot said, the pleading tone in his voice not going unnoticed by Moreau or himself. He wanted Moreau to be safe and would beg if that's what Moreau wanted to hear. He couldn’t bear letting Moreau put someone else as volatile as Tyler at his shoulder.  
"The man I have in mind would kill for me, would die for me. He would betray everything for me. Would the men you have in mind do so, Spencer?" Moreau asked, watching Eliot with the same concentration a cat watches an injured bird.  
Eliot's wounded look filled Moreau with a twisted, cruel glee. He had taunted Eliot with a man who loved him and Eliot, ever at war with himself, had absorbed the blow as a punishment, a condemnation of his wicked ways. The months he had spent wearing Spencer down had provided him with a long list of weaknesses to exploit, and a variety of ways to cause Spencer pain.  
He watched as Eliot got up, his shoulders hunched, his hands struggling to keep busy. Eliot had grabbed a bag from underneath the bed and began looking around the room for his items. The haunted resolve on his face was almost as sweet as the wine Moreau was drinking.  
“I hear you. I’ve just got a few things here anyway” Eliot said as he began packing. Moreau wanted to bring in an old flame, someone he trusted more than himself. That was fine. He knew eventually he would scare even a guy like Moreau with the darkness in him. The way he took out Tyler must have been the last straw. But it still hurt, to be discarded so easily.  
“Well, you’ll definitely need to bring more than what you can fit into that bag back here, my pet. The contents of your kitchen alone will have a hard time fitting in mine.”  
Moreau saw the shock hit Eliot as he realized that the man he was talking about was him and when Eliot looked at him, Moreau knew he had been right. Eliot would give up everything, including his own moral center, for him. All Moreau had to do was push him the right way.  
Eliot practically flew across the room and grabbed Moreau, kissing him excitedly. He couldn’t believe it, Moreau wanted him to move in, to be a guard and a lover at the same time. Eliot hadn’t let himself admit he had loved Moreau until that moment. Moreau owned him, body and soul and Eliot couldn’t wait to prove that Moreau’s faith in him was well deserved. Whatever it takes.  
1 Year Later  
Eliot had grown to enjoy working alone. Most retrieval specialists had to rely on someone, a hacker or a thief, sometimes a grifter, to get them into the building. But Moreau put all his faith in Eliot, and Eliot would never let him down. It had gotten to the point where, on the rare occasion Moreau tried to watch his back by assigning someone with him, Eliot pushed so hard to work alone that it became an unspoken rule in Moreau’s organization. Eliot worked alone. Anything he was sent to retrieve, stolen artifacts, a payment from a client, proof of someone’s demise, or, on one notable occasion, even a baseball card; Eliot would leave Moreau with a mission and return with what he had been sent to collect.  
He also played the part of bodyguard. No one could lift a finger against Moreau without looking over their shoulder for the specter of Eliot, who would bide his time for months if need be, until he could eliminate the threat to the man he loved. And he did love Moreau, with a ferocity that surprised him. No one could argue that Moreau brought out the best in Eliot. Not even Eliot. He knew that Moreau had changed him into a nightmare, but he had never felt so clear before. Right and wrong didn’t matter. Any line he had had before, Moreau had him cross. Innocent lives had been taken, mainly cops, security guards, agents of various government agencies who got too close to Moreau.  
“You think too loudly,” Moreau said next to him as he stirred awake.  
Eliot winced and shifted his weight as Moreau rolled over on top of him. Moreau enjoyed trapping Eliot under his body, hands on either side of him. It always gave Eliot a slightly panicked look. He knew Eliot couldn’t stand being trapped in anyway and it gave Moreau a little thrill to know that Eliot would never say so and would never deny him the pleasure of doing whatever he wished to Eliot.  
Eliot’s restless energy doubled when Moreau trapped him in between his arms. Not that he didn’t feel safe with Moreau, he knew Moreau would never hurt him unintentionally; but he didn’t enjoy being trapped without knowing exactly what kind of mood Moreau was in. If it was anything like last night…. Eliot wasn’t sure he could handle it again.  
Luckily enough, Moreau was smiling at him, a light and playful smile, so Eliot relaxed a little. Moreau leaned down and kissed him, softly. As Eliot leaned his head up to push Moreau into the kiss deeper, Moreau’s phone rang. Moreau stood up swiftly, never one to let a little intimacy get in the way of business.  
Eliot sighed and rolled over, grabbed a robe, and went into the kitchen. Once Moreau put on his business hat, it could take hours for him to take it off again. “Might as well make some food” Eliot thought. Besides, Moreau loved when Eliot cooked for him. He grabbed some of the eggs chilling in the fridge and unwrapped the remaining half of the bread he had made the other day and got to work making some French toast. It was a simple meal, but it was sweet, and, as the sound of Moreau’s voice became tense and cold, it might help temper him.  
Eliot had just finished plating both dishes when Moreau stormed into the kitchen. He sat down and Eliot served him, including a mimosa he had thrown in when he heard Moreau shout at the speaker on the phone. He sat on the opposite side of Moreau instead of next to him. On these mornings, being a retrieval specialist was better than being Moreau’s boyfriend. He took a few bites in silence while Moreau simmered down.  
“That was General Ribera. A trip to San Lorenzo is no longer avoidable. We will be leaving in few hours. Pack for us both and be sure to bring whatever you need to kill quite a few people by accident” Moreau finally said when he could trust that he would not say something he could not take back.  
He had, in his own way, come to love Eliot. He would never stop tormenting him, pushing him further and further down the dark path he had started Eliot on, but Eliot’s devotion had caused Moreau to fall, just a bit, for him. It was the first time he had ever felt anything quite like this. Several months ago, he had surprise himself when he told Eliot he had loved him, and discovered he actually nearly meant it. Now, he had to take Eliot with him to his home. General Ribera, who was supposed to be President soon so Moreau could keep using San Lorenzo as a safe haven, was apparently quite incapable of fixing the election himself. His opponents were polling better and now Moreau had to go to the island and fix the problem. At least he could rely on Eliot to ensure he did not get mixed up in the mess too much. Eliot would do anything he asked. He relied on that.

2 Weeks and One Car Bomb Later  
Moreau had seen the news broadcast and smiled. Eliot had done it again. He had successfully completed a task, despite the fact that doing so meant crossing a line he said he would never cross. Granted, Moreau had failed to mention to Eliot that the politician always had his two kids in the car and dropped them off at school before going to work. But still…. Spencer was never one to miss little details like that. He had to have known and he did what Moreau asked anyway. Again, he had proven that nothing meant more to him than his devotion to Moreau.  
Moreau switched off the news as General Ribera came in. The way the older man nearly jumped out of his skin in fright caused Moreau to chuckle.  
“Not to fear, General. Our job here is almost done. There are a few more men who need to be taken care of, but your best challenger had a tragic accident this morning and tomorrow, his campaign will throw their support behind you. San Lorenzo will be yours soon enough, and will remain that way as long as you do as I ask” Moreau headed to the door, not bothering to listen to Ribera’s thanks or protests, whichever one it was.  
Ribera knew who Moreau was when he signed up with him. He didn’t have time to care what the older general might have thought. He had to get to the hotel where he and Eliot were staying. Moreau intended to reward him for a masterful job well done.

Eliot sat on the edge of Moreau’s bed. His bed. He couldn’t believe it was his bed too, couldn’t believe he had chosen to lay it for as long as he had. He was watching the same news broadcast as Moreau. He was listening as he realized, for the first time, that he had killed children. Not intentionally. He could never do that. But he had been careless. He has trusted the information he had, trusted that he had been told the full truth.  
He had trusted Moreau.  
And that had been a mistake.  
Moreau would be coming by soon. He had to have seen the same thing, had to have discovered that there were kids in the car. Eliot no longer believed that he could scare Moreau with what he was capable of. But he hadn’t known he was capable of this. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He felt sick to his stomach, and stood up, pacing the room. Moreau would be coming by soon. He always came to see Eliot after the job was done, so he would be by soon. Eliot kept pacing, kept waiting, knowing that he would see the man responsible for turning him into a monster very soon.

Moreau entered the hotel room, surprised to see Eliot standing. Usually, knowing there was a reward waiting, Eliot would have been on the bed and wearing considerably less. He was aware of how much Moreau did not like having to go through too much work to get to what he wanted. And then Eliot turned and looked at him, and Moreau knew. Eliot didn’t know the kids would be in the car because he trusted Moreau. He would final to get to see Eliot break, and no amount of loving feeling could top the delicious way breaking someone down into nothing felt. He watched, and he waited for Eliot to make the first move.  
Eliot couldn’t get a read on Moreau. His face was blank, an impassive mask. He couldn’t see what Moreau was thinking, couldn’t tell what Moreau was feeling. He had to ask.  
“Did you know that his kids would be in the car?” he hated the way the words tasted in his mouth; the way he didn’t quite trust that Moreau would answer the right way.  
“Are you telling me you didn’t?” Moreau’s answer made him feel like he had been hit by a train.  
Moreau knew. He knew that the plan would kill those two kids and he told Eliot to do it anyway. Eliot stopped pacing as his knees buckled and he sat on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t breathe.  
Moreau watched Eliot’s face and it stirred a cold, dark pleasure in him to see the way Eliot collapsed. The way Eliot’s entire body curled in on itself as if he wanted the world to swallow him whole, as if he would do anything to escape the pain he felt then and there. He saw, rather than heard, the sob that broke through Eliot, shaking his entire body. And Moreau couldn’t bite back his laughter any longer. It echoed through the room.  
It was the same chuckle Eliot heard every time he had shared with Moreau some of the darker details of himself. A particularly brutal kill, the time he had to torture someone at the behest of a government agency he was working for, the way he had to leave a body so the animals would tear it apart and wouldn’t be found. Moreau always let that low, soft chuckle out. Every. Single. Time. And Eliot realized, for the first time, that Moreau wasn’t laughing to ease his pain. He was laughing because he found it amusing. He enjoyed it.  
Eliot recoiled from Moreau as Moreau stood before him, his hands on Eliot’s shoulders. He slid back on the bed, and looked up, feeling very much like for the first time, he was really seeing the man he loved. And god, the realization that he still loved Moreau was even harder than realizing what Moreau was. He stopped as his back pressed against the headboard on the hotel bed he and Moreau had shared the past few weeks. The last time he had been in the position, back pressed to the wall, a pair of cuffs keeping him from moving while Moreau brought him to the edge of ecstasy contrasted in his head with this moment. He wanted to go back to that moment, to forget all of this and just go back to when Moreau was a man who he could love. He pulled his knees to chest and buried his face in his arms.  
Moreau watched as Eliot tortured himself. He could see every emotion and thought flick across his face and felt pleasure stir in him as he watched Eliot curl into himself. Had he imagined himself in love with Spencer? This moment was far better than nay happy ending he could have thought of. Watching Eliot tear himself to bits inside as he struggled with feelings of love and devotion and horror and revulsion was truly a masterpiece. And now Moreau would finalize it by ensuring that Spencer would always come to him, would always worship at his feet like a faithful dog.  
He crawled onto the bed and lifted Eliot’s face to his and kissed him. He felt Eliot pull back and, reaching his hand up toward the back of his head, grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked.  
“Don’t fight me, Spencer. You are mine” he said, and he kissed him again. This time, Eliot didn’t recoil. This time, Eliot simply let himself forget everything and let Moreau use him like the beaten and broken inhuman thing that he was.

The next morning, Eliot woke first. He always woke first, so this was nothing new. What was new was the way he felt. He stood up and headed to the bathroom. As he turned on the shower and stepped in, he half hoped the heat would burn off the shame, and the pain he felt. He didn’t know when he turned into the monster he was now. Last night, he saw what Moreau was and let himself be used by that kind of creature anyway. He knew that he was a broken man, that Moreau had broken him down from a man into a faithful pet, but a part of him didn’t care. It was easier, to be that than it was to be a person who had done what he had done. He stood in the shower, the water turning his skin into a bright, angry red. He got out, and noticed Moreau was standing by the door. He couldn’t meet his gaze.  
Moreau watched as Eliot looked at him and then glanced down, unable to look him in the eye. It pleased him. Spencer was always very well trained, but this was a new addition, this deference, and Moreau was enjoying it. He needed to know how far he could push him.  
“Kneel” he said, and Spencer went down to his knees without a sound. He took Moreau in his mouth and let Moreau set the pace, not protesting even a bit as Moreau pushed it past careful and loving to hard and brutal, his hands in Eliot’s hair tightening it to the point of pain. As he finished, Moreau yanked his head back and casually flung him to the ground.  
“That was quite pleasant, pet, thank you. I do hope you are as attentive to the next job I have for you. There are 2 more people I need dead to clear the way for Ribera before we leave. Not to worry,” he added at the way Eliot’s eyes grew wide, the terror in them easy to read. “These won’t involve any other bodies but the 2. However, I do need them both to look a robbery gone wrong. A simple gunshot to the head ought to do it. You can handle the first on his way to the courthouse this morning, a young prosecutor. The gun you need to use is on the nightstand. Get dressed, and get to work”  
With that, Eliot knew he was dismissed. He got up and left the room. The shame he felt this morning paled in comparison to what he was feeling now. 

Eliot entered the hotel room, the gun he had used to kill the young man floating the bottom of a river now. He had left the body in an alley near the courthouse, stripped of anything remotely valuable. The gunshots were angled to look like he had been killed in a struggle during a robbery, but the truth was, when Eliot grabbed him and threw him the alley, the young man had simply looked at him. He saw Eliot, and knew, as most people did, that Eliot was there on behalf of Moreau. He didn’t beg, as some did. He didn’t plead or weep or break. He simply stood and faced Eliot with a calm composure.  
“If Moreau has sent his most vicious dog to kill me, I can die knowing I have done the right thing” he simply said before Eliot shot him.  
Eliot thought back to that. He had known that Moreau was not a good guy. He had known Moreau’s reputation and ignored it. He couldn’t hide the fact that he knew what Moreau was every step of the way, and every step of the way, Eliot choose to follow him.  
It had been for love. He couldn’t deny that he loved Moreau with as much ferocity as he was capable of. Moreau had loved him back…. hadn’t he? Sure, he said it, but knowing what was inside Moreau now, the cruelty and violence, could Eliot really still convince himself that Moreau loved him?  
The door the hotel room swung open and Moreau entered the room. He smiled, lighting up like the sun, when he saw Eliot.  
“Wonderful news, my love”, he said, and he crossed the room to Eliot, embracing him warmly and kissing his forehead. “I’ve started building a home here. After you take of General Flores later, there will be nothing stopping us from settling down here permanently. Come, let me show you the plans I have for our new home. You’re going to love the kitchen”  
Eliot followed him into the dining area of the hotel room, the dark thoughts from earlier falling to the back of his head as he listened to Moreau discuss the new features of their home. This was the side of Moreau he had loved. This man who knew Eliot and still wanted to give him a home, where they could live together. A home, where the two of the could be a family.

Moreau had never been the man he thought, Eliot mused as he listened to Moreau discuss with a handful of his men how they would run San Lorenzo. These last few days, Eliot had been kept from the main parts of the job and Moreau sent a newer man by the name of Chapman to handle some of the worse parts of the work. It gave Eliot the feeling of being put out to pasture, retired by Moreau, allowed to truly be his partner instead of an employee. Eliot was grateful, and thought that Moreau had seen that Eliot wanted away from this work for a while.  
But now, Moreau had brought him back in, only for Eliot to learn that Chapman was more brutal than he could ever be. Moreau simply hadn’t wanted to deal with the objections Eliot would raise to the way Chapman killed the men he was sent after. Eliot’s feelings had nothing to do with Moreau’s decision. Moreau simply didn’t want to deal with Eliot’s morals and emotions anymore. Not now that he had found someone who seemingly had none.  
But now, Moreau had run into a problem. General Flores was still alive and still causing problems for Ribera. Chapman was unable to get close enough to Flores to kill him. Eliot was needed. His job was to show Chapman how to do the job. He felt his anger rise and looked at Moreau.  
“I’m not dragging some hot shot-“ the words were cut off as the back of Moreau’s hand casually smacked his head to the side. He looked at Moreau, and then lowered his gaze and nodded.  
He had gotten the message loud and clear. He wasn’t Moreau’s favored pet anymore. Challenging Moreau like that, in front of everyone, wasn’t something Moreau would forgive.  
As everyone left, Moreau held Eliot back. He needed to speak to him, not to apologize, but to be sure it never happened again. He had never struck Eliot before; he had never had to. Eliot had always been a good soldier and a had never challenged Moreau, not since that little incident after their first night together. He had to be sure it would never happen again.  
“This is your last job for me Spencer. After this, you will no longer be a part of this organization. It would be best if you handled the details up at the villa. You can ensure everything is up to my standards there.”  
He would rather fire Eliot than kill him. He would rather he stayed in his bed and in his life than in his work. He dismissed Eliot with wave of his hand and watched he slunk out of the room. After today, he would see to it that Eliot never worked again. It was time for him to retire.

Eliot stormed into their hotel room and slammed the door, his cheek still stinging from Moreau’s slap. It wasn’t that Moreau had never hurt him before. Hell, the Eliot had a half a dozen bruises from last where Moreau’s hands and mouth had gotten particularly aggressive. But Moreau had never hit him before. Eliot had had worse. He made a living being the guy who could take every bit of violence dished out to him, only to turn around and give it right back. But this…..this wasn’t that. This wasn’t a beat down by a group of security guards who were protecting what he had. This wasn’t a cop who was in the way of him a crime. This wasn’t a member of some criminal outfit Eliot was up against.  
The man he loved had hit him in the same way some guys smacked a dog on the nose when it barked. It was a violent, angry moment where the man he was supposed to be in a partnership with decided to control Eliot like an errant pet. No amount of expensive gifts could make up for that. He wouldn’t forgive this, Eliot decided. That was not going to forgive abuse.  
He started grabbing the few things he couldn’t bear to leave behind and throwing them into a bag when he heard a knock and the door opened. Chapman walked into the room as Eliot zipped the bag shut.  
“Good call, bringing a few things with you. Flores’ place is a real piece of work. I don’t see how we’re going to get in” Chapman said, oblivious to the internal war going on inside Eliot. “But that’s why the boss wanted you there. How’s your face?”  
“It’s nothing. Just a love tap. He’s done worse” Eliot said. He couldn’t let Chapman know that he no intention of killing Flores, or returning to Moreau. Chapman would shoot him the back, or worse. Return him to Moreau. No, he had to get Chapman off his back some other way. 

Eliot stood over the unconscious Chapman, General Flores next to him.  
“Is he dead?” Flores asked.  
Eliot shook his head.  
“No, he’s not. But we will be if we don’t get going. I hope you’re okay leaving the country for a while, General”  
“Of course. My family is already hidden safely, and my men will join me there shortly as well. We all knew the time would come when Ribera and Moreau would attempt to kill me. I never expect that you would be the one to save my life instead of ending it though”  
“I don’t think it counts as saving your life if I’m the one who was supposed to kill you” Eliot said, darkly. “But I don’t think it’s saved yet. Moreau will figure out what happened soon enough. We’re leaving this island together, if that’s alright by you”  
He relaxed as Flores nodded, and he knelt down to take the gun from Chapman’s hand. All the lives he had taken for Moreau with a weapon exactly like this came flooding over him. He hit the magazine release, tossed the magazine to the side, and ejected the remaining round in the chamber, then tossed the gun into a neatly pruned plant outside the house as he and Flores walked to the car. At Flores quizzical glance, all Eliot had to say was “I don’t like guns”.

Several months Later  
The cell phone on the hitman Eliot had just killed rang. The caller ID flashing on the outside display had Moreau’s number. Eliot took a deep breath to steady himself and answered it.  
“Still here Damien,” he said.  
This was the third man he had killed that Moreau had sent after him since he and Flores had fled the country of San Lorenzo. Flores was long gone, hidden somewhere even Eliot didn’t know. He knew Moreau wouldn’t take being left lightly, but had hoped that he had cooled off by now. The venom in the voice on the other side of the line made him realize that Moreau would never let him go.  
“It doesn’t matter. I will send as many as it takes to bring you home, Spencer.” Moreau sat in his villa, almost complete, in a kitchen that was never supposed to be for him to sit in alone, the sound of Eliot’s voice post battle stirring a desire in him that he hated. Eliot had never used his first while they were together. He wished he could see way he would lean against a wall, breathing heavy. He wished he could see Eliot smile at him again in that self assured, proud way he always did when he had shown what he could do. He had loved him. He had owned him. He never wanted him dead, but he wouldn’t let him leave. His blood ran cold at the next words Eliot spoke  
“I have the Interpol file. Let Flores and his men return home, and stop sending these second rate men after me and it won’t get back into their hands. If you don’t, then I promise, I will drop the file and you off at their Italy office. Let it go Moreau. We’re done.”  
The line went dead and Moreau set the phone on the table. He smiled. That was the man he had loved. He would give the new orders to his men tomorrow. He would play Eliot’s game. And one day, Eliot would return. He couldn’t let go of someone he loved so easily. Moreau could wait for him, even if it took years.

The past faded from him as he looked at Parker, who was waiting for his answer. There were things he couldn’t share with them, things he was still trying to atone for.  
“Don’t ask me that, Parker,” he said, his voice cracking, his eyes pleading with her directly. “Because if you ask me, I’m gonna tell you. So please….don’t ask me.”  
He breathed, relief flooding him as he saw her nod. Nate spoke up, pulling them from that moment and Eliot turned to listen. What he was before, it was no longer important. Today he had faced Moreau, faced that past, and he knew. These people, they were family. What he had with Moreau could never compare.


End file.
